


Drabbles and poor ideas brought to life

by Fyava



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bad English, Drinking, Hair Dyeing, Keith & Shiro centric, M/M, Very poor attempts of humor but you can quess how that turned out, i'm sorry this is just really bad, oh why do i do this, oh yeah a modern day setting without all space stuff, overreacting (or is it?), there's at least mentions of everyone, very bad english
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 11:59:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15072695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyava/pseuds/Fyava
Summary: A dumpster for VLD one shots and drabbles.





	Drabbles and poor ideas brought to life

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me what I'm doing I seriously don't know.
> 
> Alright my fellas, after s6 I wanted to write about Shiro's new hair color and it gave me an excuse to say BOO to the never ending writer's block. A serious disclaimer guys; This. Is. Bad. As. Fuck.  
> You have been warned!
> 
> Anyways, thank you for tumbling around! *blows a kiss*
> 
> Obviously I do not own any of the characters or products mentioned in the story. Possible similarities to other works are purely coincidental unless told otherwise.

_'Those moments in your life, you know, when you feel like things couldn't get any worse and the next thing you know the Universe has elbow dropped on you so you decide to just lie down for the next twenty years...'_

Oh the cruel irony, Keith thought as he listened Hunk's loud monologue from kitchen. He thought about all those sarcastic narrators in tv-shows and made a mental note that if he ever needed one for his sad excuse of a life, Hunk would be just the man.

To clear this feeling up; he had become very familiar with this ” _Universum_ ” right about ten minutes earlier. After hurling itself through the bathroom door it had settled in a large bathtub to laugh itself dead – if that was possible.

To be even clearer; it laughed at Keith.

Just at Keith, and Keith only. To Keith the ”I won the bet so I'll be one to dye Shiro's hair”.

And even more sadly, to Keith the ”not once during this sad excuse of a lifetime I have touched a hair dye”.

Wide-eyed, Keith stared the bathtub until Shiro's voice snapped him out of his thoughts;

”How does it look?”

It was a rhetorical question. Keith's tipsy brain registered some mockery in his tone but left it unnoticed since _boy oh boy Shiro was totally oblivious that they would both end up dead._

”Keith?”

He swallowed and walked in front of Shiro, placing the blow dryer on top of a washing machine. Hypothetically? It could have looked so much worse.

”It's... different but doesn't look that bad at all,” Keith said, fighting the urge to laugh dryly at himself. It was hardly midnight and he _swore_ if even one god damn thing _dared_ to go wrong before next morning he'd launch himself all the way to outer space.

Shiro snorted and Keith once again took a look towards the damned bathtub.

”Something wrong?” he asked, tilting his head on the side clumsily, eyes wandering around Keith's face without actually focusing on anything. He tried to squint but gave up and brought a beer can to his lips.

Keith grabbed a mirror and handed it to Shiro. He took it and gave now empty can to Keith in exchange. Then he carefully peeked the mirror, curious about the reflection and didn't seem to hate what he saw.

Keith bit his pinkie nail and tried to locate his punch cup, which he realized was lying empty on the floor. Fucking great. Empty cup meant going to the kitchen and going to kitchen meant dying. Also, no alcohol in this situation meant dying and in all honesty, he'd rather meet his end all shitfaced. He shot a look towards Shiro who was running his fingers through his hair like nothing was wrong in the world.

”Sit still,” Keith sighed and opened the bathroom door. He took silent steps towards the kitchen.

”And that...” Hunk declared, ”was the zoo incident in all it's glory!”

Matt's howling laughter filled the room. Keith sneaked into the kitchen, hoping that drunks of the round table would be too busy with their game to notice him. Hunk was furiously rubbing his temples, probably trying to banish all memories about the incident while Pidge patted his shoulder, clearly living through the secondhand embarrassment of the only witness. Lotor, solemn as ever, had placed a hand over his eyes and tried to laugh silently. It made Keith roll his eyes. He had almost made his way to the fridge when Lance decided to lift his gaze from a phone screen;

”Yo, Keith! You ready yet?”

And to no one's surprise, all eyes settled on him.

Keith had comically stopped in mid-step, freezing in horror with a humiliating posture of a cartoon thief. Too bad he didn't have a striped shirt. When Allura's eyebrows started to climb up, probably heading all the way to her hairline, he saw the moment in – well... - _the Universum's_ eyes.

_Oh yeah, he totally deserved all the jokes about sneaking like a lovechild of Dalton brothers (you know, from that stupid animation) and a t-rex. Sweet..._

Oh yeah, and just for the record – _the Universum was Still. Fucking. Cackling._

Keith straightened his posture and coughed;

”Yeah, almost. Shiro's terrified and he asked me to get something so--”

Every single pair of eyes remained on him until Hunk shrugged and placed his hand on the bottle in the middle of their circle. He didn't spin it just yet, but addressed how Lotor would be the next one to receive the horrible fate of not-sober hair coloring.

”You're going to have it so much easier tho,” Hunk said and grabbed his beer with his free hand. ”your hair is already white so we're doing you a favor. Those brown roots are a little distracting, my dude.”

Lotor let out an offensed whine and tried to shot a glare towards Hunk, failing miserably for being unable to keep his eyes on one place. Instead he grabbed the wine bottle and drank.

”Take the Jäger,” Hunk said, ”he's going to need it.”

Keith sure didn't need to be told twice. He had the half-empty Jägermeister bottle in his hands and bathroom door knob in his reach before Hunk had spun the bottle and with a not-so-smooth gesture he swung the door open and pulled it shut with a little too much force, fumbling with the lock. He got rid of the bottle cap as fast as he could and took a long sip before meeting Shiro's eyes – that, by the way, now looked at him in utter horror.

”Keith,” he said with an empty tune and pointed his hair, ”this isn't pink.”

Damn right it wasn't.

Two things then happened at once;

1\. Shiro was on his feet and snatched the bottle from Keith's hands with a speed of sound.

2\. They had the most sober eye contact of all night, the wide-eyed agreement that _they were doomed. Doomed with a capital D and no way to dodge this fate, with no way to cancel the one-way ticket to six feet underground..._

”What did you do?” Shiro asked, clutching the bottle in his hands like it had all the answers. ”Did you actually use Lotor's hair dye bottle without blinking an eye?”

Keith look Shiro dead in the-- possibly, hopefully somewhere around the face area. The direction must have been right for Shiro's mouth fell open.

”Just how?” he whimpered and looked ready to glue the bottle on his lips.

”I don't know,” Keith hissed, already reaching his hand towards the Jäger, ”they looked exactly the same!”

Shiro's gaze jumped wildly from object to object until it landed on two white bottles of hair dye on the washing machine.

”Fuuuuck...” he said under his breath, counting one plus one, ”of course, Lotor threw the boxes away and you just happened to take all the wrong shit.”

”Yes, thank you!” Keith hissed and drank. ”I didn't mean to do that, alright? I have no fucking clue how these things work!”

Shiro nodded and slapped his palm on Keith's shoulder. For a minute they just passed the bottle back and forth until Shiro's eyes widened once again and he held Keith's gaze. Without thinking about it furter he blurted out;

”Lotor's going to have pink hair.”

Keith almost spat out the liqueur.

”Lance is going to dye his hair,” Shiro continued, ”and we both know he's going to do it without saying a word. And guess who gets thrown under a bus?”

Nagging voice somewhere in Keith's mind tried to make him concentrate on the bad things yet giving no shits he burst out into uncontrollable laughter.

”Lotor's going to have pink fucking hair,” he slurred, and chased away Shiro's growing panic in a blink of an eye. He snorted and slapped a palm over his mouth in attempt to muffle out his voice. Well, at least the effort was worth an A...

Keith closed the distance between them and rested his forehead on Shiro's shoulder. From somewhere between the wheezy breaths he whispered;

”I'm sorry I got you caught in this mess, and I'm sorry I bleached your hair.”

Shiro stroked his fingers through Keith's hair.

”It's okay, honestly. You saved me from the pink.”

Keith nuzzled his nose on Shiro's neck and said with a singsong tune;

”And that's why you love me.”

Shiro breathed out a laugh and gave him a 'that's right'. They just stood there for a while, Shiro's arms around Keith and Keith's other hand tucked on the back pocket of Shiro's jeans, the other still clutching the bottle tightly. And Keith could have stayed there, in a comfortable place with warmth of alcohol and embrace of Shiro (or possibly other way around, didn't really matter) but no, the Universum tapped them on the shoulder just in time to hear a loud screech from the kitchen. They stepped apart and Shiro spoke first;

”We should really get out of here.”

Even with his brain functionin with a lower speed, the reality hit Keith faster than a lightning;

”There's absolutely no way I am going back there!”

Shiro only chuckled and pointed an index finger towards the window in the back of the room. Well, it wasn't very big but it would be enough. Oh, it would be enough when the options were escaping through a window versus a rage of The Lord of the Apartment (aka. Lotor the ”I don't have a fucking sense of humor”).

”Alright,” Keith nodded, mostly to himself, ”you go first.”

He went back to the door and pressed his ear on the cold surface just to make sure their friends would still be focused on their game. They were loud and they were slurring and that was beyond perfect. He gave a thumb up to Shiro who opened the window and hopped out smoothly for a man of his size, fumbling only a little. Keith, on the other hand, walked across the bathroom with hurried steps and hurled himself outside.

Well, it definitely was less smooth – oh, and he took a note that they didn't have shoes.

With no sense of grace, he landed on something sharp and yelped, almost going down, trying to protect the Jäger with all of his might. Shiro, still notably less drunk, reflexively placed his arm around Keith's waist and helped him back up. He leaned on Shiro's arm for a moment longer and that funny, bubbling feeling of light-headed, fucked up gravity made him slap a stupid grin on his face.

”Did I tell you that I like you hair color.”

Shiro looked down at him with an amusement until he placed a sloppy kiss on Keith's forehead and took the bottle.

They crossed a couple of driving lines before reaching a sidewalk, the ground cold beneath their feet. For a moment they just walked, until Keith (for some reason, Lord knows why) opened his mouth;

”So,” he slurred, ”your place or my place?”

Shiro found this hilarious for some reason, and Keith watched him, frowning, as the man snorted and drank. Then he reached out for Keith's hand to entwine their fingers together and gave a light squeeze.

”This might come as a shocker to you,” Shiro started all deadpan, ”but we live together.”

Keith looked like he wanted to say something but kept his mouth shut, and after giving it a thought he smiled just a little, almost privately, and said in some kind of drunken enchantment of total happiness;

”Oh yeah, you're right.”


End file.
